Posts Tagged ‘1993’

A native of Key West—the place where Pan Am began, the U.S.S. Maine sailed from on its last journey before exploding in Havana Harbor, and Ernest Hemingway maintained a legendary home—John Wesley Powell, also known as Boog, spent most of his 17-season career in an Orioles uniform. One of those seasons—1970—resulted in him winning the American League Most Valuable Player Award.

Powell ran away with the MVP voting, gaining 11 of 24 first-place votes and 234 points. The next four contestants weren’t even close:

Tony Oliva, Minnesota Twins (157)

Harmon Killebrew, Minnesota Twins (152)

Carl Yastrzemski, Boston Red Sox (136)

Frank Howard, Washington Senators (91)

Memorial Stadium rocked with the cheers of Oriole Nation as Powell marched toward the coveted .300 batting average barrier, falling just short at .297. Powell’s dominance at the plate reflected in 35 home runs, 114 RBI, and a .549 slugging percentage.

It was a banner year for Baltimore’s birds—they won the World Series after getting upset by the Miracle Mets in 1969. Powell’s fellow Orioles did not fare as well with awards, despite outstanding seasons. Baltimore’s legendary pitching staff boasted three 20-game winners—Dave McNally, Mike Cuellar, and Jim Palmer scored in the top five for the American League Cy Young Award voting, but got eclipsed by Jim Perry of the Twins.

Powell said, “I think it’s a shame we were neglected for the other awards. All of our three pitchers certainly deserved the Cy Young. But I’m still elated at being chosen the MVP. I feel it’s the highest honor in sports.”

Yankee skipper Ralph Houk won the American League Manager of the Year title rather than Earl Weaver, who helmed the O’s to two straight World Series. A third consecutive appearance happened against the Pittsburgh Pirates in ’71—ultimately a losing affair in seven games.

Cheers, an NBC prime time powerhouse in the 1980s, used Powell to cement verisimilitude of Sam “Mayday” Malone—a fictional relief pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, a recovering alcoholic, and the owner of Cheers. As the show’s theme song declares, Cheers is a bar, near the Boston Commons, where everybody knows your name.

In the first season episode “Sam at Eleven,” Sam’s former ballplayer pal Dave Richards, now a sportscaster, wants to interview the ex-Red Sox reliever at Cheers. Sam talks about a dramatic moment when he faced Powell in the bottom of the ninth inning of the first game of a doubleheader. During the middle of Sam’s story, Dave abandons for an interview with John McEnroe. Diane Chambers, an intellectual waitress having an undercurrent of highly significant sexual tension with Sam, which gets resolved in a later episode when they succumb to their respective differences—he, a dumb jock stereotype and she, a condescending sort—asks what happened to “the Boog person” and Sam, obviously suffering from a punch to his ego, casually tells her that Powell grounded to third to end the game.

After some gentle and not-so-gentle verbal prodding from Diane, Sam talks about the injury to his psyche. Then, perhaps in a moment of catharsis, he tells Diane about the end of the second game, which also found him facing Powell in the bottom of the ninth.

Sam’s story could not have taken place during Powell’s MVP year, however. When Cheers left prime time in 1993, after 11 seasons, Sports Illustrated ran a biography of America’s favorite barkeep. “Everybody Knows His Name” recounted Malone’s career based on dialogue throughout the series. Sam Malone entered professional baseball in 1966, débuted in the major leagues in 1972, and ended his career in 1978.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on October 15, 2016.

Before he received tomorrow’s newspaper today in Early Edition, before he coached the Dillon Panthers in Friday Night Lights, and before working for the Monroe County (Florida) Sheriff’s Office in Bloodline, Kyle Chandler portrayed the All-American archetype Jeff Metcalf from the fictional River Run, Ohio on Homefront.

Airing on ABC from 1991 to 1993, Homefront boasted an ensemble cast portraying life in a Midwestern town after World War II. It harkened back to the 1946 movie The Best Years of Our Lives, which revolved around soldiers returning from World War II to their fictional hometown, also in Ohio—Boone City.

Jeff played for the Cleveland Indians. During 1946 spring training, he meets the older and wiser Judy Owen, a bartender played by the lovely Kelly Rutherford, who has aged about 25 minutes in the 25 years since Homefront premiered; Rutherford’s body of work on television includes Melrose Place, The District, Threat Matrix, Gossip Girl, Nash Bridges, The Mysteries of Laura, and The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr.

Rutherford’s worldly Judy and Chandler’s naïve Jeff, whom she nicknames Buckeye, after his home state, have a passionate connection. Though it’s not consummated, the arc toward fulfillment is clear as a sunny day at Jacobs Field when she says, “I said I had to lock up. I didn’t necessarily mean lock up after you’re gone.”

It threatens Jeff’s relationship with his fiancée, Ginger, a budding radio star—she discovers them in Jeff’s room, albeit fully clothed. Ultimately, Jeff and Ginger wind up with each other, a knee injury forces Jeff out of baseball, and Judy moves to River Run, where she has an affair with the wealthy Mike Sloan, who is roughly a generation older. Jeff rebounds from the knee problem to earn a place in the Indians’ minor league system.

Homefront aired for two seasons, depicting the life and times of the folks from River Run in the years 1945 to 1947. This, of course, leads to question marks hovering over Jeff’s character: Would he have played on the Indians’ World Series championship team in 1948? How would Larry Doby, who made his début as the first black player in the American League, have affected—or ignited—Jeff’s view of racism? How would River Run be affected by the introduction of television as a mass medium, thanks to Texaco Star Theatre premiering in 1948, with Master of Ceremonies Milton Berle as the first television star?

Rutherford symbolizes a throwback to the decade when Humphrey Bogart played a casino owner in Casablanca, Spencer Tracy played a fictional presidential candidate in State of the Union, and Fred MacMurray’s insurance agent conspired with Barbara Stanwyck’s femme fatale to kill her husband for money in his life insurance police in Double Indemnity. Movies from that era appeal to Rutherford. “Every once in a while, I need to have my fix,” said Rutherford in an interview with Susan King of the Los Angeles Times in 1994. “I think it’s mainly when I need inspiration I look at the old pictures. I don’t find it as much in the new stuff. I love Carole Lombard. I think she’s wonderful. Gloria Grahame was really great. Garbo. Dietrich. People knew how to create an illusion. Now everything is very realistic and straightforward. Everyone’s grunge.”

Chandler, too, enjoys an affinity for the classics. In a 1993 article for the Cincinnati Enquirer, Chandler told Enquirer scribe John Kiesewetter about growing up outside Atlanta on a family farm, where Ted Turner’s television station WTBS aired the work of Bogart et al. “Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Clark Gable—there was a whole world there from the ’40s that I grew up watching. It opened up that world to play with inside my head, and it was one of the main things that made me interested in acting.”

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on October 6, 2016.

It is the birthplace of The Star-Spangled Banner, the resting place of Edgar Allen Poe, and the place where a stadium constructed during the nostalgia-soaked 1980s defines the paradigm for retro ballparks.

Baltimore.

Petco Park, PNC Park, and several others, indeed, have Oriole Park at Camden Yards in their DNA. It began the erasure of the circular goliaths built in the 1960s for multiple sports, changing the game of ballpark architecture for urban planners, government officials, and fans. Shea Stadium hosted the Jets and the Mets. Going to the “Vet” for a sports fan meant either a Phillies game or an Eagles game. Memorial Stadium gave Baltimore a home for the Orioles and the Colts.

Oriole Park ushered in a back to the future approach to creating a space where baseball can flourish.

The statues of Oriole icons are amazingly detailed. When observing Jim Palmer’s left leg extended just before releasing the ball, you almost think the statue will come to life. Brooks Robinson stands in a slight crouch, waiting for a line drive or ground ball. Earl Weaver, hands in back pockets, appears ready for another argument with an umpire.

The Baltimore Sun has an electric sign past center field with its shortened name—The Sun. When there’s a hit, the “h” flashes. An error prompts the “e” to flash.

Baseball-themed plaques dot Eutaw Street outside the outfield perimeter, marking the spots where balls have landed. One plaque sits on the exterior of a restaurant—Ken Griffey, Jr. knocked that dinger during Home Run Derby of the 1993 All-Star Game.

A statue of Babe Ruth stands outside an entrance, reminding entrants that, while the Bambino found pitching success in Boston and earned legend status with home runs in New York, he is a Baltimorean.

Cal Ripken, Jr. made baseball history at Oriole Park in 1995, when he eclipsed Lou Gehrig’s streak of 2,130 consecutive games.

Pope John Paul II celebrated mass at Oriole Park when he visited Baltimore on his 1995 trip. The NBC television show Homicide features Frank Pembleton, played by Andre Braugher, watching the Pope’s visit on television.

On April 6, 1992, President George H. W. Bush threw out the first pitch for the first game at Oriole Park. It was a fitting moment for the former first baseman for Yale.

Baltimore’s rich train legacy permeates the ballpark. Beyond right field, the former Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Warehouse stands as a testament to the city’s transportation past, occupied present by team offices. Camden Yards is the site of the B&O’s rail yard in days of yore.

Dave, The West Wing, and The Wire contain scenes at Oriole Park—the first two offerings focus on fictional presidents throwing out the first ball. In an episode of House of Cards, the fictional vice president, Frank Underwood throws out the first ball; Kevin Spacey, an Orioles fan, plays the devious Underwood in the series.

Baltimore’s communal feeling surrounds Oriole Park. Its aura is one of friendliness. Its history, one of the richest in baseball. Major League Baseball planted a flag in Baltimore when the St. Louis Browns moved after the 1953 season, but it was not the first MLB team for the city. Dating back to 1882, Baltimore had a major league presence. When a game takes place at Oriole Park, it continues a legacy ignited by John McGraw, Hughie Jennings, and Wee Willie Keeler; bolstered by Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, and Jim Palmer; and cemented by Cal Ripken, Jr., Eddie Murray, and Earl Weaver.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on September 25, 2016.

Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. So said a fictional version of Babe Ruth in the 1993 film The Sandlot.

Lou Gehrig, undoubtedly, belongs in the latter category. Stricken by Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, the Yankee slugger died on June 2, 1941 at the age of 37. His was a story reminiscent of A.E. Housman’s poem To An Athlete Dying Young.

An editorial in the New York Herald Tribune stated, “Facing with a simple courage the appalling disease which was to kill him, he made, in the final years of his life, one of the best parole commissioners New York Has had. He had a knack for the friendly kindness which such a task requires.”

Associated Press’s obituary described Gehrig as “a big, handsome dimple-cheeked fellow who always looked the picture of health. He stood 6-feet-1 inch and weighed 205 pounds. Playing every game became a fetish with him and because of this, or because of his naturally careful habit, he trained more faithfully than almost any other player in the major leagues.”

Gehrig contrasted teammate Ruth, he of the gargantuan appetite for life’s sensual pleasures. In his 2012 book Pinstripe Empire: The New York Yankees From Before the Babe To After the Boss, Marty Appel wrote, “He was Ruth without drama, Ruth without nightlife, Ruth without scandal. He lived with his parents. He said things like ‘swell’ and ‘gosh.’ He had muscles to spare when players did no weight training and tended to be lean and lithe. He could read and write in German. Lou Gehrig would become the idol of every boy who loved baseball for his quiet presence, clean standards, and heroic deeds. He was polite and humble. He would park his car three blocks from Yankee Stadium to avoid notice.”

Although Gehrig played a handful of games in 1923 and 1924, he began his trek toward legend status on June 1, 1925, when he played in the first of 2,130 consecutive games, which earned him the nickname “Iron Man.” It was an era of Yankee dominance; during Gehrig’s career, the Bronx Bombers racked up seven American League titles and six World Series championships.

Gehrig’s output earmarked the Yankee lineup as fearsome—.340 career batting average, leading the major leagues in RBI four times, and 23 grand slams. And that’s just a sample of the thunder that Gehrig created with his bat. In 1995, Cal Ripken, Jr. broke Gehrig’s streak record. Alex Rodriguez has surpassed Gehrig in grand slams.

On July 4, 1939, the Yankees hosted Lou Gehrig Day. It is best remembered, perhaps, for Gehrig declaring that he’s the “luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

In a 2003 article for mlb.com, Mark Newman opined about Gehrig’s statistics if ALS hadn’t struck him. “Conservatively speaking, it would have been reasonable to project another 500 hits, 350 runs, 90 doubles, 30 triples, 100 homers, 350 RBIs and 300 walks in those three years,” wrote Newman. “He would have passed Ty Cobb as the all-time leader in runs scored. He would have been around the 600-homer mark. He would be the all-time leader in RBIs, not Hank Aaron.”

Gehrig’s death prompted the nickname “Lou Gehrig’s Disease” for ALS.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on June 2, 2016.

When Ronald Reagan pursued the presidency, Jack Warner, his former boss, said, “No, Jimmy Stewart for President. Ronald Reagan for best friend.” This story may be apocryphal a combination of political and Hollywood lore.

Reagan, the nation’s 40th president, stands at the crossroads of politics and show business as the ultimate example of the nexus between the two. After an acting career that lasted nearly 30 years working for Warner and other studio heads, Reagan ran for Governor of California twice and won both times—1966 and 1970. During the Reagan presidency in the 1980s, the actor-turned-politico reportedly said, “How can a president not be an actor?”

Such is the quandary of Dave Kovic, an impersonator of President William Harrison Mitchell in the 1993 movie Dave; Kevin Kline plays the title character.

After a speech at the Monroe Hotel, the president engages in a tryst with his secretary in a hotel room while Dave—also played by Kevin Kline—substitutes for him in the lobby, waving to people as he exits. Mitchell’s staff procured Dave’s services after learning of a promotional appearance as the president at a car dealership. Presidential impersonation is a side business to Dave’s job—running a temporary employee agency.

When President Mitchell suffers a stroke in flagrante delicto, Chief of Staff Bob Alexander and White House Media Advisor Alan Reed persuade Dave to continue impersonating the president, who lies in intensive care several feet below the White House in a super-secure area. An appearance at Camden Yards appears in a montage of scenes showing the “new” President Mitchell rebounding from his stroke with positive energy.

Kline filmed Dave during 1992, a presidential election year that brought George Herbert Walker Bush, William Jefferson Clinton, and Henry Ross Perot into the campaign arena where they were marred by blood, sweat, and late night television comedy. “I really tried to avoid doing George Bush,” said Kline in an interview with Susan Lehman of the Washington Post. “If I had, it would have put us in the realm of impersonation or parody. And rather than do a parody of any conservative president of the last 12 years, I tried to understand the psychology of a guy whose popularity polls had hit bottom, who no longer enjoyed his job, who had bought into the whole public polling, image-creating aspect of his job and had lost touch with who he was. You know, at one time, he may have had the best intentions when he entered politics, but ultimately it got the best of him.”

There is no designation of a political party in the movie.

Before an Orioles-Tigers game on August 3, 1992, Kline filmed the scene of him throwing out the first ball. Baltimore’s birds won the game 6-3. Storm Davis restricted the Tigers to no hits during his 2 1/3 innings of hurling. Orioles first baseman Glenn Davis knocked a two-run home run in the fifth inning.

Storm and Glenn were not brothers—pretty close, though. Storm’s family adopted Glenn, for all intents and purposes—though not formally—when the boys played baseball at Jacksonville’s University Christian High School. Glenn Davis’s parents divorced just about when he was learning to walk, leaving the Davis matriarch struggling to raise three children on her own.

This difficult home situation made Storm’s family life a paradigm of structure, safety, and belonging. “Glenn started coming over to the house his sophomore year, sometimes staying for dinner,” wrote Molly Dunham and Mike Klingaman in a 1991 article for the Baltimore Sun. “He lived on the north side of Jacksonville; Storm’s family lived on the south side, about 15 miles away. Sometimes Glenn took the bus. He never really said how he got there other times.”

In his 13-year major league career (1982-1994), Storm Davis played for Baltimore, San Diego, Oakland, Kansas City, and Detroit; Davis’s career win-loss record is 113-96. Glenn Davis played for two teams—Houston and Baltimore—in his 10-year major league career (1984-1993), compiling 965 hits, 190 home runs, and a .259 batting average.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on April 1, 2016.

Roy Campanella grew up in a section of Philadelphia called, appropriately, Nicetown.

“He was like a little Santa Claus. Everybody loved Campy…This guy was just one happy, great, lovable baseball person. And that’s about the way I can describe him,” stated Don Zimmer, a Campanella contemporary, in Neil Lanctot’s 2011 biography Campy: The Two Lives of Roy Campanella. Zimmer played with Campanella on the Brooklyn Dodgers from 1954 to 1957.

Breaking into the major leagues with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1948, the jovial catcher played for the emperors of Ebbets Field through 1957, tapped unparalleled knowledge to guide pitchers, and won the National League Most Valuable Player Award three times.

But Roy Campanella’s stellar career ended on an icy patch of an S-curve on Dosoris Road in Glen Cove, New York. Just five minutes from his Glen Cove home—Salt Spray—Campanella lost control of his car, ultimately crashing into a telephone pole. The accident paralyzed him. In his 1959 autobiography It’s Good To Be Alive, Campanella wrote that he left his Manhattan liquor store “at about 1:30 in the morning of January 28th.” He blamed road conditions for the accident that occurred a few minutes after 3:30 a.m.

“There were big patches on the road,” explained Campanella. They looked like white spots. I could see them clearly. I wasn’t going fast, I don’t think more than 30 or 35 miles an hour, though I wasn’t looking at the speedometer. I followed the road around the bend in the S and was headed for the right side of the road as I came out of the bend. Then I suddenly lost control. The car wouldn’t behave. I tried to steer it away from the side of the road. The brakes didn’t hold. The surface was sandy and icy. I fought the wheel. The brakes were useless.”

Campanella stayed late in Manhattan on the evening of January 27th because he was scheduled to be a guest on Harry Wismer’s television show. Wismer’s show aired on the Dumont Television Network’s New York City station—WABD—after the fights televised from St. Nicholas Arena. The broadcast time depended on when the fights ended, but it hovered around 10:45 p.m.

Wismer made the request of Campanella during the previous night’s Baseball Writers Association of America Dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. “He said the Harlem Branch of the YMCA had told him to call me,” wrote Campanella. “They had a fund-raising drive on and felt I could help them by appearing on TV. He asked me to appear the next night.”

At about 9:00 p.m. Wismer called Campanella’s liquor store to cancel the appearance. He felt that delaying it by a week would create an opportunity to promote the show. Campanella stayed at the store to help one of his workers, then went home.

Lanctot disputed the version of events that have Campanella leaving the store at 1:30 a.m. and heading directly for Salt Spray, described by the New York Times as “a $40,000 ten-room ranch house on Eastland Drive, East Island, Glen Cove.” First, he credits “contemporary news accounts” of Campanella’s employees saying that their boss departed at 12:30 a.m. Then, Lanctot theorizes that Campanella stopped at Smalls’ Paradise, a Harlem nightclub on 135th Street. He stayed until 2:00 a.m.

“His next stop has been a well-kept secret,” stated Lanctot. “When questioned, the ever-discreet [long-time Dodgers executive] Buzzie Bavasi admitted that Roy had told him in ‘strict confidence’ that he was doing ‘something he shouldn’t have been doing,’ and not Dodger-related promotional work that [Dodgers owner Walter] O’Malley hoped would be covered by insurance. Bavasi would concede only that Campy ‘was visiting a friend.’ Several other interviews confirm the ‘friend’ was actually a lover or a pickup whose identity remains unknown to this day.”

Lanctot’s thesis of the accident rests on Campanella falling asleep while driving: “It is not hard to imagine that a man without rest for close to twenty hours, drained by work and a recent roll in the hay, would succumb to exhaustion.”

Paralyzed by the accident, Campanella refused to let his physical condition prevent him from contributing to the game he loved—he mentored John Roseboro, Mike Scioscia, and Mike Piazza. Spirit endured where body could not.

Roy Campanella got inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1969. He died on June 26, 1993.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost on August 15, 2013.

Dennis Franz stayed with NYPD Blue for its entire run on ABC from 1993 to 2005. But before he won Emmy Awards for his portrayal of Detective Andy Sipowicz, Franz starred in several television series. Some may be long forgotten.